


Shades of Grace

by Fan462



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, M/M, Superwholock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 01:45:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fan462/pseuds/Fan462
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is going to die, unless Sam can find Cas to save him. Thankfully help abounds. Surely time's greatest wizard, the world's greatest dective and a time lord can get Cas there in time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shades of Grace

**Author's Note:**

> I've been pulled into this totally against my will. Thankfully I know who to blame. This may be crackiest crack that ever cracked. Yeah, I don't even know...
> 
> Also I've noticed some formatting problems in a few fics on AO3. I hope to avoid these, but as I've never posted here before it may take time for me to learn all the tricks. I apologize in advance for any formatting weirdness.

“I want a couch.” Dean Winchester slumped in the hardwood chair across the table from his brother. “You can’t tell me all the Men of Letters did was sit in these blasted chairs and read books.” 

Sam looked up from the book on the table in front of him to peer at his brother through a fall of chestnut bangs. “Okay, I won’t tell you.” He went back to his book seemingly unconcerned by any lack of comfort. 

Dean watched Sam settle into his research and rolled his eyes. “Oh my God, an entire society of Sam Winchesters. That’s scarier than anything we’ve fought in months.” 

He caught the pen Sam pegged at him before it could nail him in the forehead. He was unimpressed by Sam’s accuracy despite the fact he never lifted his eyes from his reading. “It’s unnatural. A guy needs downtime. Lay on the couch, drink a beer, and watch things blow up on TV.” He threw the pen back at Sam, who caught it without looking. 

“So go blow something up.” 

Dean huffed a breath at Sam’s suggestion and took a long pull off his beer. “That’s way too much like work.” He watched his brother turn the page and continue reading. 

“Then go take a nap.” Sam’s ability to keep track of Dean’s whining…err conversation…as well as his book impressed Dean a lot more than his accuracy tossing things.   
“I’m not tired.” Dean drummed his fingers on the table and let his gaze roam the room. He was bored and wished something would happen to liven things up, and get Sam out of that damn ten-thousand page volume of boring. 

Sam lifted his head and ran a long fingered hand through his hair, brushing the unruly strands out of his face. His brow furrowed. “But if you had a couch to lay on, you wouldn’t watch the movie, you’d go to sleep.” 

“That’s completely different. I swear to God, Sammy, sometimes it’s like you aren’t a guy at all.” Dean’s eyes narrowed as he peered at something over Sam’s shoulder. With a slow deliberate movement he pushed his chair back from the table. His attention completely diverted from Sam. “What the hell is that?” 

Without getting up Sam turned to follow his gaze. “I don’t see anything.” 

Dean didn’t answer, he was already moving around the table his attention fixed on the floor in front of one of the tall bookshelves. His shoulders tensed and he reached for the knife ever present on his belt. When he loosened it in the sheathe Sam got to his feet. 

“Dean, what?” 

He shook his head, watching and waiting with quiet patience for whatever he’d seen to show itself. “I thought it was a mouse or something, but it glowed. It went under there.” He indicated the almost nonexistent gap between the bottom of the shelf and the floor. Sam’s brows drew together. 

“A mouse wouldn’t fit under that.” Sam started forward but Dean grabbed him by the arm holding him in place.   
“Wait, I have a weird feeling.” 

Sam turned an incredulous gaze on his brother. “You. Have a feeling?” 

Dean pulled a face. “Shut up. I don’t know, it seemed like I should recognize it.” 

Before Sam could answer something came out from under the shelf, and scurried across the floor between them. They jumped out of the way and watched it run under the table and out again to disappear under another bookcase. 

“It does look like a glowy mouse.” Sam sounded surprised. 

“Told you.” Dean cocked a brow at him before he started towards the spot the creature had disappeared. “Whatever it is must be pure energy. It squeaked into another tight spot.”   
He elbowed Sam. “See what I did there? Squeaked?” and sniggered at his own joke. 

With a sigh Sam shook his head. “Grow up, Dean. You know, I’ve never heard of anything like that. Why do you think you should know what it is?” 

Dean shrugged and got down on his hands and knees to peer under the shelf from a safe distance. He couldn’t see a thing. “Don’t know. It’s like when you see someone familiar but you can’t place them.” 

“Riiight.” Sam was clearly humoring him. “Because you know so many glowy mouse things.” He shifted through the stack of books on the table. He chose one began thumbing through it. “I think Pokemon are energy creatures. Some of them can be pretty nasty, maybe you picked one up somewhere.” 

Dean got back to his feet and dusted off his knees. “Pokemon aren’t real.” 

Sam glanced up from his book. “Neither is the Wizard of Oz.” He went back to flipping pages. 

Dean grimaced at him. “Fan-damn-tastic, Sammy-boy, thanks for that.” 

Without warning Sam’s eyes flashed blue and Dean tensed worried the angel Ezekiel was about to make an appearance. If he’d ever felt guiltier about anything than he did Sam’s inner angel, Dean didn’t know what it was. Tricking Sam into inviting Ezekiel in had been the only way to save Sam’s life, but he knew Sam wouldn’t appreciate being possessed any more than Dean would. He worried that when Sam found out the truth he’d lose his little brother despite having saved his life. The angel didn’t speak and when Dean glanced his way Sam’s eyes were their usual clear hazel. 

Thank God for small favors. Dean was pretty sure he liked Crowley better than the damn angel he’d let take up residence in Sam. Castiel said the Ezekiel was one of the good guys. More like a dick in Dean’s opinion, but then again Cas had plenty of his own dickish moments. Maybe it came with the halo. 

“I have an idea.” Sam moved towards the stairs. Dean didn’t pay much attention. He was on his hands and knees crawling slowly towards the shelf harboring the glow-mouse. “I’ll get something to contain it, just in case we can catch it. Why don’t you grab some salt, just in case? But whatever you do….” 

The glow-mouse flowed out from under the bookcase and reformed in front of Dean. It looked startled to see him. He had a fraction of a second to register an impression of cute surprise before his reflexes kicked in and he grabbed it. Just as Sam finished what he was saying. 

“Don’t touch it.” 

Feeling sheepish Dean stared at his clenched fist. He hadn’t meant to catch the thing, but it had stopped right in front of him. Stupid reflexes. 

“Damnit, Dean!” Sam rushed back to his side and they both looked at his hand which was closed to tightly too to hold anything but air. Despite appearances a sparkling golden tail twitched where it hung free of his grasp. 

His palm tickled. 

The tail disappeared. 

Dean opened his hand only to find it empty. 

Reluctantly he met Sam’s gaze. Bitch face. Dean had seen that coming. He sighed. 

“Are you okay?” Sam demanded grabbing Dean’s wrist and studying his hand. He turned it over inspecting it for any sign of harm. 

“Dude, I’m fine.” Dean snatched his arm away and got to his feet. His hand still tingled, little pin pricks like when his foot fell asleep. He shook it hard to get rid of the feeling, but it only intensified. Troubled, Dean rubbed the thumb of his other hand over his palm but the tingling didn’t abate. It felt warm under his touch and Dean narrowed his eyes as he took a closer look at the spot he’d been rubbing. A dim glow emanated from under his skin, in a circle about the size of a dime. “Mostly fine. I think. Uh…Sam…”

Sam’s huge hand engulfed Dean’s wrist and he pulled him closer, his attention fixed on the brightening circle lying just under the skin. Dean pulled his gaze away from the worrisome sight to meet Sam’s eyes and found himself staring into cold neon blue orbs instead of his brother’s warm friendly hazel. 

“How did this happen.” The sound of the voice was Sam’s but the tone was all wrong. Sam never spoke to Dean in such an unfeeling manner, as if there were no affection between them at all. Dean’s heart clenched. If Ezekiel ever decided to take over Dean would never hear warmth in Sam’s voice again. 

Clenching his fist closed Dean tried to pull out of the angel’s grip, but it was like pulling against an iron manacle. “It just happened. The thing was running around and it jumped into me. Now give me back my brother so we can figure out what’s happening.” 

The strong line of Sam’s jaw clenched. “I know what has happened. I do not understand why or how.” Ezekiel forced Dean’s hand open without regard for the risk of injuring him. The hunter hurled a string of curses at the angel fighting to get free without success. The angle ignored his struggle. He pressed a finger into the center of the circle of light in Dean’s palm and it flared to a blinding brightness. Ezekiel staggered back, and Dean went reeling. He lost his footing and fell. He sat in the floor and stared at his hand. He closed into a fist again, an action that mostly contained the light, and climbed slowly back to his feet. His gaze fixed on Ezekiel. 

The angel looked shaken. He stepped forward to meet Dean’s advance. Ezekiel gripped Dean’s shoulder, fingers digging in with more strength than Sam had ever possessed, bruising to the bone. “Dean, listen to me, you have to get that out of you! It’s going to kill you.” 

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “You aren’t Ezekiel, who in the hell are you?” 

Raising his hands in an effort to ward Dean off, Ezekiel back pedaled keeping out of reach. “Dean, you aren’t thinking straight. That thing is going to take over. You’re going to die.” His eyes blazed blue and the white nimbus of his power surrounded him. 

Infuriated Dean didn’t care what the angel had to say. He continued to advance. “You lying son of a bitch. I’ve had enough of your shit. Get. Out. Of. My. Brother.” His hand blazing with a blue-tinged white light that threw Ezekiel’s light into shadow. Dean reached forward to grab Sam’s shirt, but to his astonishment his hand sank into Ezekiel’s chest. He and the angel stared at where his hand disappeared into Sam’s ribcage. When Dean withdrew his hand he held the snapping arcing light of Ezekiel’s essence. Not simply his grace but the very fabric of what made him a living self-aware being. 

Sam gasped and staggered back, shaking his head in an apparent effort to reorient himself. His eyes, once again their normal greenish hazel, flickered between Dean and the struggling light held in his grasp. His brow furrowed. 

“What’s going on? Dean, is that an angel?” Sam hesitated and looked up to meet Dean’s eyes. “What in the hell was an angel doing inside me?”   
Dean began to sweat. Not only was he tangling with the pure energy form of whatever angel had been in Sam, but his brother looked about a half second from losing his shit. “Sammy, seriously? Can we talk about that later and decide to what to do about this now?” He damn sure didn’t want the angel to get loose. Ezekiel, or whoever the hell he was, had to be pissed and even without a vessel an angel could mess them up. 

“A circle of holy fire.” Sam told Dean as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

“How do you propose we get him there? If you light the barrier with me inside I won’t be able to get out without breaking the circle.” 

Sam looked as astounded as Dean felt when without warning a figure stepped out of the shadows. He held out what looked like a mason jar with some sort of cryptograms scribbled all over it. Dean didn’t recognize any of them any more than he did the boy holding the jar. 

Sam came between them in one fluid movement. Dean noted the angel had been lying about Sam’s physical state as well as his own identity, but no real surprise there. Thankful that Sam seemed just fine, even after having a hand shoved inside him and an angel ripped out, Dean turned his attention to the conversation between the intruder and his brother. 

“Who are you and where did you come from?” Sam demanded. He sounded calm but the tension in his shoulders told Dean how upset he was to have an intruder in their haven. In contrast the young man didn’t seem worried at all. His shock of black hair was cut over his ears and above his collar. He wore it brushed forward with no part. His red kerchief and blue shirt looked years or even decades out of date. 

“My name is Merlin and I’ve come to help in your hour of need.” He shrugged and glanced behind him at the dark corner he’d stepped out of before turning to meet Sam’s gaze once more. “Skulking in the shadows was getting boring and you looked like you could use some magic.” 

“Magic?” 

Dean edged up to stand at Sam’s shoulder. “Did you say magic?” 

Merlin laughed. Dimples carved his cheeks. “You do believe in magic don’t you?”

“Believe, sure. Like it, not so much.” Dean scoffed. “Are you a witch?”

“I’m a wizard. The most powerful wizard who has ever existed.” The dimples flashed and Dean elbowed Sam. He knew what a weakness Sam had for dark hair and dimples.

“If ever a wiz there was…” Dean muttered and Sam snorted. 

“Stop it.” Sam nudged him. 

Dean shrugged. “The guy has a mighty high opinion of himself.” 

Merlin cocked his head. “Not really. I’m just highly self-aware.”

Dean choked back a laugh liking the guy despite himself. “So, you said you were going to help. I don’t think hex bags will be strong enough to contain him.” 

Merlin looked puzzled. “I don’t know what a hex bag is. I have this.” He held up the jar.

Sam accepted the jar and turned it in his hands studying it. “I don’t recognize the markings.” He finally said handing the jar back to Merlin. 

“The jar bears the symbols of the old religion. It will contain your creature of light.” 

Dean followed Merlin’s gaze to his right hand where he still had the hissing furious light of the angel. He guessed the fact he’d pretty much forgotten what he held said something about the day he was having. He lifted his eyes to meet Sam’s gaze.

“What do you think?” 

Sam looked thoughtful. “Well, if the jar holds we can put it in the corner of the safe room with Crowley. It won’t take a very big ring of holy fire to contain it.” 

Dean nodded. “And if it doesn’t hold, I guess we won’t live long enough to regret it.” He turned to Merlin. “Okay kid hand it over.”


End file.
